Caer Silverhill
by Nessa Meneldur
Summary: Surely everyone's wondered at one time or another what the story was with Aunt Petunia, and her apparent hatred of her own sister. This is my opinion on what happened, starting from when they were both children.


Author's note: It's a little bizarre, but just bear with me, please. It'll all work out later - oh, and it's probably completely different to J.K Rowling's idea of what went on...

Disclaimer: Anything Harry Potter related is copyright of J.K. Rowling...but then, you already knew that.

- - -

Petunia Evans walked into her room and very carefully placed her bags on the floor. There was only a month to go until she had to go back to school, and her mother had taken her and her sister shopping.   
Feeling tired, Petunia laid on her bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. '_A day's shopping sure can take it out of you,_' she thought to herself. Being thirteen, she was just at the right age to begin to appreciate shopping more, but it was still a relatively new experience to her.   
Looking across her room, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and she wrinkled her nose slightly. Being thirteen also meant that she was beginning to become aware of the fact that she certainly wasn't the most attractive person – and certainly not as pretty as her sister.

Petunia was a tall girl for her age, almost the same height as most girls ever reach, and was almost too thin. She had a long neck and an equally long, straight nose. Her hazel eyes were almost too close together, and her lips were thin, giving Petunia the appearance of someone with their lips permanently pursed together disapprovingly. Her long, dark brown hair had hints of red through it, making it a pretty shade, but it was thin and wispy, and she couldn't do anything with it.   
Her sister, on the other hand, was like a pretty little rosebud. Only being ten, nearly eleven, she wasn't fully developed, but already her shirts hinted at a developing bust. Her thick, wavy auburn hair tumbled softly around her face and shoulders, and never appeared to be out of place. Her green eyes were delicately almond shaped, sparkled almost constantly, and were spaced evenly on either side of a perfectly shaped nose. Her lips were lovely and full, again perfectly shaped and shaded. She was just the right height, neither too tall or too short, and, while being petite and slender in build, she carried an air of inner strength and confidence. Even her name seemed to fit in with her beauty – Lily, an unusual name, to be certain, but it suited her down to the ground. Of course, in Petunia's eyes, her name suited herself as well – too long and not exactly elegant.

Despite it being obvious to her that Lily was going to be the beauty, Petunia loved her younger sister dearly. They did almost everything together, and their relationship was reaching a point were they almost didn't need to talk to know what the other was feeling and thinking – the emotions of one always affected the other. The day that Petunia had started secondary school was still a slightly painful memory - the sight of Lily crying always hurt and upset Petunia deeply, and Lily was much more upset than usual, because she was still in primary school, while Petunia went off to secondary school and left her behind. That hadn't stopped the two remaining as closely bonded as ever.   
Petunia smiled slightly, looking forward to the new term at school. Lily was just going to be starting secondary school with her, and she was looking forward to teaching her the ropes of the new place. After all, she'd already had to struggle through and work it out for herself – if she could help make it easier for Lily, then she would do so.

Glancing at the clock, Petunia groaned slightly and rolled to her feet. She began to put away all her new items neatly, and then quickly ran a brush through her hair. Leaving her room, she walked down the hall to the bathroom, washed her hands, and began to head for the kitchen downstairs just as her mother called out, "Girls! It's dinner time!"

- - -

Petunia yawned as she opened her door and reached for the light switch. As per usual, her mother had cooked the most delicious dinner, and the family had enjoyed a pleasant evening talking, eating, and generally enjoying themselves.   
Finally finding her light switch, she flicked it on and stepped into her room. Closing the door behind her, she turned around to find a strange person standing patiently, looking quite at ease.   
Stifling a scream, Petunia took a step backwards, only to find to door hard against her back.   
"Who..." she began, then swallowed. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" she finally managed to ask. _'You're pathetic,'_ she thought to herself. _'Let's ask the most obvious questions first...geez!'   
_The man smiled soothingly, before bowing gracefully and replying to her questions. "I am Nicholas von Drye, and I am here on a very special service," he said calmly, his voice tinted with a strange accent. "If you would be so kind as to take me to your parents, I shall explain the whole situation." He bowed smoothly towards her again.   
Petunia finally gained control over speech again, and nodded slightly. "Of course," she replied softly, reaching behind her to open the door. No-one intending to burgle the house would ask so politely to see her parents – she might as well take him there and find out what he wanted.   
Stepping through the now open door, she gestured for the stranger to follow her, and she began to head down the stairs, adding, "They're in the front room, I believe..."   
Leading the way to the front room, she heard the slightly heavier tread of Nicholas behind her, and decided she should give her parents some warning.   
"Mum? Dad?" she called out.   
"What is it, sweetie?" her mother called out in reply. "We're in the front room, if you want to talk..."   
"Okay Mum, it's just that there's something we need to talk about," she replied, hesitating slightly. "Erm...a gentleman says he needs to talk with us, his name's Nicholas von Drye," she added, just as she stepped around the doorway into the front room.

Her mother looked over her shoulder, and her eyes widened slightly as she noticed Nicholas hovering politely behind Petunia.   
"Uh...Petunia, care to explain?" she asked faintly, tapping her husband on his shoulder and nodding towards the door.   
Her father shot to his feet, and glared at Nicholas. "Yes indeed...you have two minutes to explain what on Earth is going on, young man, and then I'm calling the police," Mr. Evans warned.   
Nicholas gently pushed past Petunia and walked through the room to stand directly in front of her parents.   
"I intend to explain everything," he said softly, his voice still containing that strange, lilting accent. "If you would all, please, take a seat, I shall begin."   
Mr. Evans nodded slightly, and held his arm out to Petunia, an invitation to join them on the settee.   
She smiled slightly at him, and edged around Nicholas so that she could sit between her parents.

Nicholas waited patiently for the family to get settled, before smiling and holding out a letter. "I'm mainly a messenger, here to deliver this to you, and to answer any questions you may have..." Passing the letter to Petunia, he linked his hands behind his back and rocked backwards and forwards slightly, looking for all the world like a pleased little boy.   
Petunia glanced up at Nicholas, slightly suspicious, before shrugging faintly and turning over the envelope. She stared in confusion at the strange seal – a crest depicting a stick shooting...something out of it, crossed over the top of mountains...strange indeed! There was a banner underneath the seal, but Petunia could only assume that it was some obscure foreign language, because it certainly didn't make any sense to her!   
Shrugging her shoulders slightly, Petunia slid her finger under the seal and opened the envelope, pulling out several sheets of...parchment? She frowned again – something weird was definitely going on here!

She read the first paragraph of her letter, and her frown deepened. Looking up to Nicholas, she demanded, "Is this your idea of a joke!?"   
Her father instantly sat up straighter, preparing to defend his daughter as needed.   
Nicholas, however, just smiled his soft smiled and nodded at the sheets in Petunia's hands. "It is no joke," he replied gently. "Please, continue reading..."   
"What is it, Petunia, sweetie?" her mother asked softly.   
"Mum, it says..." Petunia paused, trying to think of a way to phrase it. "Mum, have you ever heard of a school called Caer Silverhill?" she asked cautiously.   
Mrs. Evans paused, frowning delicately. "I can't say I have, dear," she replied finally. "Why? Is that where the letter's from?"   
Petunia nodded distractedly, continuing to read the rest of the letter.

Slowly, she glanced up to meet Nicholas' gaze.   
"How...how?" she asked, frowning slightly, this time in confusion.   
Nicholas smiled understandingly. "I know it's hard to believe," he replied to her, nodding sagely, "but trust me, it is true..."   
"Petunia?" her mother prompted gently.   
Petunia looked at her mother and slowly handed over the letter. "Mum, Dad...I've been invited to attend a school called Caer Silverhill School for the Slightly Magical!"   
Mr. Evans frowned deeply at the name, and scowled up at Nicholas, without having read the letter.   
"What in God's name is going on here?" he demanded, half-rising to his feet. "First of all, you appear at our house, unexpected and uninvited, and then you give a letter of such idiocy to my daughter!?"   
Nicholas took a slight step backwards, but gamely spoke up.   
"I realise it sounds incredible, if not unbelievable," he began, holding up his hands placatingly, "but it is honestly the truth."

Petunia looked thoughtful for a moment, tuning Nicholas out temporarily – his accent sounded familiar somehow.   
"Nicholas," she interrupted, suddenly looking up at him, "have I met you somewhere before? Your voice is unusual, I know I have to have heard it before!"   
"Petunia," her mother chided softly, "watch your manners!"   
Nicholas grinned, and bobbed his head.   
"No, no, Mrs. Evans, it's perfectly alright," he replied cheerfully. "Your daughter is most observant – very few of the others have recognised me. Indeed, we have met before, Petunia, although it was many years ago now. You would have been about five years old, in primary school – I was your class's Teacher Aide for a few months. In fact, I was mainly there to keep an eye on you, my dear, to see if you were, indeed, fit for our school."   
Petunia absorbed this information without acknowledging it, save for a small frown forming on her face.   
"I recognised your accent – where's it from?" she asked, suddenly curious.   
"Ah yes, my accent is a little strange – I was born originally in Germany, but I received a letter, same as you, with an invitation to Caer Silverhill. Ten years in Wales will do wonders for changing a man's accent."   
"Wales?" Petunia repeated excitedly. "Is that where..."   
"Fascinating, I'm sure," Mr. Evans broke in, talking over his daughter for a moment, "but this explains nothing."   
Nicholas looked at Mr. Evans and inclined his head slightly, hands gesturing apologetically.   
"You are, of course, correct," he said amicably. "Very well, I shall try to explain things for you.

"Within, and yet beyond your own world is another, one which is very rarely acknowledged – it is the world of Magic, of witches and wizards, spells and enchantments. Of course, there are books all throughout your world of Magic, and all that is related to it, but these are largely just fiction and fantasy – rest assured, there is magic, but it is not like the sort of Magic in your books.   
"So yes, there are witches and wizards – they attend one of the many schools located around the world, to train to the best of their abilities, learn control, and what I consider most important, learn respect for non-magical folk, and learn to hide their abilities from them. They are full witches and wizards – there is, however, another sort, and your Petunia is lucky enough to be one of them. There are those born that contain some latent magical abilities, not necessarily strong, and the abilities may lay hidden for many years – these are often the true psychics, clairvoyants and healers in your society. To help these people in their quest to understand their unusual abilities, should they grow to realise them themselves, one of the past Headmasters of the full Magic school here in Britain founded Caer Silverhill – he searched for many years, locating those who would be willing to work with the slightly magical, and train them to their full, own individual abilities. He had the school built in Wales, hidden from sight from those without any magical abilities using many full-magic spells, and appointed a Headmistress there – she began scouring the country for the partially magic, and slowly the school built up. Caer Silverhill eventually grew to accept students from all around the world, as it is the only school of its kind, and it has been running strong ever since.   
"Your daughter obviously has latent magical powers, and I am here, on behalf of Headmistress Llewellyn, to offer Petunia a place in our school, should she wish to accept."

Petunia sat quietly through Nicholas' explanation, slowly piecing everything together in her quick mind – could this possibly explain the connection she had with Lily? Did this mean that Lily, too, would come to Caer Silverhill in a few years?   
Excitement building, she looked at her parents, watching their expressions. Her mother looked characteristically thoughtful – she was a quiet and intelligent woman – clearly mulling over Nicholas' words. Her father was frowning, hands steepled slightly even as they lay in his lap. Petunia bit her lip – it was her father that would require the convincing.   
"Daddy?" she began quietly, so as not to startle him.   
Mr. Evans slowly looked down at his daughter, and nodded, indicating for her to continue.   
"Daddy, I know it seems unbelievable," she continued, talking relatively quickly, hoping that she wouldn't be cut off, "but...well, I want to go – it's a great opportunity, don't you think?"   
He frowned further, obviously not convinced.   
"Darling," Mrs. Evans said, piping up suddenly, "I'm inclined to believe Mr. Von Drye, and, I have to say I agree with Petunia – it _is_ a wonderful opportunity. Just think of it, our daughter, magical!" Her eyes shone slightly as she looked at her husband.   
Mr. Evans turned his gaze to meet his wife's, and his own expression softened slightly.   
"I'm still not entirely convinced," he began, and Petunia slumped, disappointed, "however, I see no harm in checking out this...school," he continued, beginning to smile slightly. "Are you sure, Petunia?" he asked, looking back at his daughter. "It means changing schools, and leaving your friends behind..."   
"I'm sure, Daddy," she replied quietly, smiling up at him. "It sounds wonderful."   
Nicholas grinned, and bounced on the balls of his feet slightly.   
"Excellent, this is just wonderful," he said, delighted. "I'm afraid that I must leave now, but I shall return in a few days to give you some extra information about the school, your supply lists, all that sort of thing. Please forgive me for leaving so abruptly, but I have some unfinished business elsewhere. Enjoy the rest of your evening!"   
With a smile and a flourished bow, Nicholas suddenly disappeared from the room, a small 'pop' the only thing marking his exit.

The Evans' blinked, thoroughly surprised.   
"Well," Mrs. Evans said faintly. "If ever we needed any proof..." Looking over to Petunia, she smiled gently. "Sweetie, you should go to bed now – it's getting late, and you've had an unexpected surprise. I'll let you sleep in late in the morning."   
Petunia nodded and climbed to her feet, only just noticing her exhaustion.   
"Thanks, Mum, Dad," she said, smiling at them both and giving them a goodnight kiss on their cheeks. "I'll see you in the morning."   
Smothering a yawn, she wandered upstairs, not bothering to switch on her light. Changing into her pyjamas, she got into bed and snuggled down, letting out a deep breath. She began to think over the information Nicholas had given them, but her eyes slowly closed themselves, and before she knew it, she was asleep and dreaming of a school called Caer Silverhill.

- - -


End file.
